Advising
by Eleanor Ariail
Summary: In which the queen is wise, DG is damp, and Ambrose would be cute, if he weren't so obnoxious.


The young man stood outside the door, shifting nervously from foot to foot. He shuffled a packet of papers to his other arm so that he could check his watch again, unconsciously bobbing his head with every tick of the second hand. Finally, it reached the top of the ivory face, and he knocked on the door hesitantly.

"Enter," a voice called softly from inside. He opened the door and slipped inside, closing it back behind him with a soft click. He stayed there, frozen against the door, staring at the woman across the room, until she looked up and beckoned him to come closer. Taking a deep breath, he straightened his back and approached her.

He gripped his papers tightly and bowed low to her. "Your Majesty," he addressed her reverently. He rose and glanced at the bassinet next to her. Wide eyes darted back and forth between the queen and the infant, and he began worrying his lower lip between his teeth. Coming to a decision, he turned and bowed to the bassinet as well, mumbling, "Your Royal Highness."

The queen laughed merrily, breaking the awkward silence. "I think it will be quite a few years before my Dorothy requires that level of formality from anyone. You're Ambrose," she said, more of a statement than a question.

"Yes, your Majesty," he said, blushing but smiling all the same. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you." The queen reached into the bassinet to stroke the infant, who was watching them both with wide blue eyes. "Yes, I'm sorry it's taken this long. I generally welcome each addition to my staff personally, but I've been rather preoccupied lately."

"Well," Ambrose replied, "That's quite understandable, as I arrived here the same day that she did, your Majesty." He took a moment to study the tiny princess. She had thick black hair and an almost impatient look to her eyes, as if she were already wanting to hop up and get into trouble.

The queen looked up at him again. "You just graduated from the academy, didn't you? The youngest graduate ever, I believe?" He beamed with pride. "Yes, your Majesty, I'll be seventeen later this annual. I also had the best marks of my class," he added.

She nodded and smiled indulgently. "Yes, I'm sure you did. Well, thank you for coming. I've no doubt you will be an excellent junior advisor, and I look forward to seeing your work in the future." Ambrose nodded back, still smiling, completely oblivious to the dismissal.

A beat passed, and he glanced down at what he was holding. "Oh, I've been doing some research in my spare time over the last couple of weeks, and I've compiled this for your review." He pressed his bundle of paperwork into her hands and continued, "It's from all the Zone's foremost experts on childcare – recommendations on feeding, bathing, appropriate sleep patterns – anything you might need to know for an infant."

The queen frowned in puzzlement as she flipped through the pages. "You do realize this is not my first child? And, that I have a full nursery staff?" she said mildly, studying the complex charts and diagrams. "Well, of course, your Majesty, I just wanted to make sure you had access to the very most recent information and methods," he replied, confident in value of his research. "It's very important to stay up to date on these things."

She pulled out a particularly complicated set of instructions and glanced between it and the novice advisor, her mouth curling into a thoughtful smile. "Very well, here." She handed the selected papers back to him. "The changing table is over there; do please demonstrate for me."

Ambrose stared at her, his mouth gaping slightly. He finally took the papers from her, and saw that they were the highly technical specifications on diaper changing. He gulped at the bassinet. "But, I've never even touched a baby before," he whispered, looking back to the queen for help.

With a completely straight face, she replied, "But you've studied the matter so thoroughly, surely you must be quite capable. Please, go ahead." He stared at her a moment more, but, recognizing the finality in her voice, sighed and reached into the bassinet.

After some awkward shuffling of the blankets, he managed to get his hands under the girl and lifted her to his chest. Pleased at having overcome his first obstacle, he carried her to the changing table and set her down gently. The queen followed and watched over his shoulder as he set his instructions up against the wall and began to gather his materials.

He managed to get the damp diaper off fairly well, but began to have problems when it was time to apply the powder. Instead of the two and one-quarter poofs he was aiming for, it all poured out quite suddenly, leaving the baby solid white from the waist down. Flustered, he grabbed for an extra cloth to clean her off, but in the process, tipped the rest of the powder off the table.

He watched helplessly as it spun through the air, and, when it hit the floor, it exploded in a cloud of fragrant dust. Coughing, he looked up at the now white-haired queen sheepishly. She smiled and shook her head, "Don't worry about it, just finish up."

Using his sleeve, he wiped the powder from his eyes and went back to work. Little Dorothy was beginning to get squirmy, clearly unhappy with her current fate. Several minutes later, he held a hand to his head, completely flummoxed. He had followed every step as well as he could, and still, somehow, the diaper had gotten twisted, the pins misplaced, and the princess was scrunching her face up in a very dangerous way.

He frantically dug through his research, looking for anything that might remedy his situation, while the queen merely leaned against the wall, watching as he fell deeper and deeper into a panic. Finally, with tears in his eyes, he turned to her, the papers crumpled and held tightly against his chest.

"I've failed you, your Majesty. I don't, I don't deserve to be here." He took a shuddering breath and moved towards the door. "I'll go pack now," he whispered.

The queen reached out and grabbed his shoulder. "You'll do no such thing. Ambrose," she turned him back to her and took the papers from his grasp. "You don't need these. I know that in school you were required to learn and reproduce the work of others, but that's not what I hired you for."

She glanced at the papers once more before tossing them to the floor. "I want you for your own thoughts, not for other people's. You are far more intelligent than any of these experts. You just have to learn to trust your own judgment. Think for yourself; be original." Ambrose stared back at her, a hint of confidence beginning to reform in his eyes.

They were interrupted by a sudden short squeal from the table. The poor girl had been as patient as she could, but was beginning to tire of her role as an object lesson. With a small smile, Ambrose returned to her side and began his task again. Though still a little awkward, he managed to keep the baby quiet and calm as he finished.

He sighed as he finally wrapped her in a blanket and picked her up. "Thank you, Princess Dorothy, you've been very gracious," he said solemnly. The queen laughed and patted him on the back. Looking into the deep blue eyes, he said thoughtfully, "Dorothy... There have been quite a few of those, haven't there? Will she be going by a middle name or anything?"

"She doesn't have one – it's just Dorothy Gale. I imagine she'll pick up a nickname at some point," the queen said. "Dorothy Gale," Ambrose repeated, "You could always call her DG."

The queen smiled, but looked at him sharply. "Initials? That's rather unusual, don't you think? Not something other people do often here." Ambrose returned her smile confidently. "I wouldn't want to be thinking like other people, now would I? Besides, I _really_ like using initials."


End file.
